


The Disconcerting Case Of Dwellers Hollow

by Black_Lotus



Series: Never Stop Choosing Me [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Gore, Brave Sansa, Brothels, Conspiracy, Cover Art, Dark Sansa, Domestic Fluff, Don't Trust Anyone!, Dumpsite, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Fuck Cannon, Gothic, Guns, Hypocrisy, I mean it, Kissing, Knives, Lies, Light Dom/sub, Lollipops, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Murder, Murder Family, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Petyr's Smirk, Police, Prostitution, Rape Recovery, Rough Sex, Sarcasm, Scars, Sex, Song Lyrics, Steampunk, cleaner, husband and wife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 11:45:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12480832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Lotus/pseuds/Black_Lotus
Summary: "You did this! You killed and buried all those people and I am going to prove it. I am going to tear down everything you've built, I'm going to leave your children fatherless and that slut wife of yours working on street corners. And do you know why I'm going to take everything from you? Not because it's my job to uphold the law, not because you're a killer, but because you think you can win anything. This is one game you can't win. I am going to destroy you, Petyr Baelish."Petyr leaned forwards in his leather chair, a smirk on his lips. "Well, don't make too much noise about it."





	1. The Hunter And The Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> This is part two of Never Stop Choosing Me, it won't make any sense if you've not read part one (Broken Chains) so please read that first and enjoy! :-)

He ran, quick and desperate he charged through the darkness of the deep forest, leaves crackling under foot while twigs snapped, a ridiculous chorus sung by nature that only existed to scare and torment; so inscrutable. He ran. The June evening air bit at his cold pale skin, as though Jack Frost had a personal grievance with him, some nips almost as sharp as a blade gliding over his cheekbones, slashing them. The sandy-haired man continued to run, couldn't stop, wouldn't stop, the words played like a mantra in his head slowly tuning into a prayer or an oath, he didn't know and didn't particularly care, or maybe it was more that he didn't have the metal focus to care. Police behind him and escape before him, body panting and panicked, heart drumming in his chest. An owl hooted and green eyes darted up to it though they never actually saw the creature, too dark were the depths of the forest, just another part of nature's chorus.

He knew that if he didn't escape them soon he'd be caught, ripped away from freedom like a nightmare, his energy had dwindled after digging the grave, palms aching from the harsh wood grating against them even through his gloves. He couldn't go to jail after everything, what sort of a story ending would that be? Normally he was such a calm and collected man, so much so it bordered on ataraxy, but he'd grown too complacent and cocky until consequences had come knocking, their thuds on the proverbial door still echoed through his mind. He must have been spotted behind the seedy bar as he drug the cooling body away to his car, it was the only moment anyone could have witnessed him. It had been sloppy and beyond stupid. He ran, running was his only option in that moment, feet pounding against the wet soil and rotting leaves. The police followed, heavy stomps and flashlights that flickered a little too close for comfort and looked like a bad horror movie scene. He ran. They'd have found the car by now – of course they had, he'd been in it when they tailed him – but the middle-aged and sandy-haired man didn't have to worry about that, he'd worn thick leather gloves and the car had been stolen that morning; they'd get no evidence from it; a void of nothingness. At least they'd get no information unless they managed to catch him, which was _not_ an option, never an option.

A stream cut through the forest not far from Dwellers Hollow, a thin little thing that was rather pathetic in the grand scheme of things, muddy and half buried under dead brown leaves and smoothed pebbles. He could lose the police and any snarling dogs that came later to track him. He ran. He ran and he kept running for his life, his freedom, his heart thudded in his chest beating in time with harsh pants that turned to mist before his face. There would never be any silver bracelets on his wrists. Water sloshed loudly as his feet stomped through the forlorn stream, flashlights continued to haunt him, their supernatural luminous tormenting him as he charged before clawing up a muddy mound that called itself a hill to escape into the night. Freedom!

 

~X~

 

When dawn finally graced the world with it's presence the rain decided to as well and not too soon later a grey sedan pulled up by the edge of the woods looking very out of place, Detective Inspector Oren Heyerdahl and his Detective Sergeant emerged from it along with the best Medical Examiner King's Landing had to offer; Jefferson Von Voltaire. They'd been put onto the Dwellers Hollow case a few hours ago calling all three out of their warm and peaceful beds, they'd just shook off the groggy grip of sleep and downed at least three cups of dark coffee each; black as night and sweet as sin.

Jefferson had almost instantly noticed four other fresh graves with bodies – all young women – buried only five to six feet down almost as though the murderer hasn't cared enough to dig deeper, a few moments later he noticed several patches of darker grass and felt a chill run down his spine almost like a snake slithering down a tree; there were more bodies, a lot more.

Heavy rain tumbled down in the style of a waterfall, angry and resentful with an almost waxy finish, the sort of rain that seemed wetter then wet and dripped off people's noses. Despite being day the sharp dark clouds kept Dwellers Hollow in a sort of constant twilight that could have easily become depressing had the Detectives, Medical team and CSIs not been too focused on the job at hand, water bounced off the white and blue pop up crime scene canopy almost deafeningly, a wrathful drumming. Murder wasn't unusual in King's Landing by any means, narcissists and bestial morons were everywhere, but the sight before them was certainly an anomaly; unique.

Thirty-five minutes later – when the air had grown almost icy – Doctor Von Voltaire had the ground penetrating radar he'd asked for which only revealed the horror of where they stood, Dwellers Hollow wasn't just a dump site, it was a graveyard, necropolis of forgotten souls. That chill Jefferson had felt before intensified. Radar had revealed at least forty more bodies each buried seven to eight feet down and all set out in neat rows; whoever had done this was organised and precise.

“Heyerdahl!” Doctor Von Voltaire called out from his place at the small screen, his rich voice echoing around the tiny Gothic-like glade. “You're going to want to see this.”

In seconds DI  Heyerdahl and Sergeant Larroquette were by his side almost as though they'd simply materialized, two sets of unique eyes peered at the screen before glancing up to the mass of damp yellow flags that littered the clearing; each one a life that had been taken. 

“Shit!” Growled the Detective Inspector, shoulders tense and square.

“We've got ourselves a serial killer.” Said Sebastian.

“Yeah, a really neat one. They're all set out in rows and at the same depth. Whoever your boys chased last night didn't kill these people, these fresher graves aren't as deep or in rows. That poor bastard stumbled on someone else’s dumpsite.”

“Which means there are two bastards out there.” Oren continued to growl, it seemed to be a pre-requisite of being him. He glared at the Medical Examiner. “Voltaire, get 'em dug up and give me details so I can find these fuckers!” 

It was rather glaringly obvious that Oren Heyerdahl wasn't a nice man – Detective Sparrow was probably the only person that liked him, so what did that say about the man? - he stood tall as an oak at six-foot-six with unnecessarily broad shoulders that left him built like a brick wall; a fact he liked to remind everyone about. Egotistical bastard. His mocha skin had aged poorly over his fifty-four years of life but he didn't seem to care, or maybe he'd just not noticed. Oren's hair had long since greyed and had always been cropped close to his head, a shame really since it could have been rather luxurious and full had it been longer. Ebony eyes enclosed by a thick black ring that had been hidden away within a constant frown of sharp lines and bushy eyebrows, yet another shame, those ebony eyes were the only part of him that could have been deemed handsome; beautiful even. A too large nose called his face home with one nostril smaller than the other, there was also a scar that ran over his left eyebrow slashing it and down his cheek somewhat, over many years it had faded but still the raised and discolored line remained over his cheek; no one dared ask him where it came from but as with all workplaces there were rumours, some dark while others were almost comical.

DI Heyerdahl's suits were expensive but ill-fitting from years of improper care and his ties only ever tightened up against his shirt collar when in court. The DI was just one of those people that others took an instant dislike to, an automatic response caused by his violent temper, superiority and his homophobic attitude. The homophobia was why he'd hated Sebastian and Jefferson at the start – still did in all honesty – in his mind couples shouldn't have been on cases together and certainly not gay couples, Oren thought they made the force look weak. King's Landing didn't particularly care that one of the force's Detective Sergeants was dating the head ME, Oren Heyerdahl however believed he wrote the law for everyone; the hubristic, imperious and supercilious bastard that he was . At first he'd tried to get Sergeant Larroquette moved to a different division – Vice had been his preferred option – and out of major crimes but after only a few weeks he'd been forced to give up and keep him, Sebastian was just too damn good at his job to get rid of.

Sebastian Larroquette however, was the total opposite to his boss, not only was the man accepting and highly intelligent but he was also very thoughtful and brave, though quite stoic upon first glance. Like Heyerdahl he was rather tall – though about an inch or so shorter than the ebony eyed DI – as well as far thinner, porcelain skin wrapped tightly around his toned muscular body and square shoulders; slender but strong. Despite having just turned forty-six the DS certainly didn't look it, in fact he appeared ten years younger, more maybe, he'd always been blessed with good skin and youth almost as though it were a consolation prize for his horrid upbringing. Larroquette's eyes were a grey-blue with a hint of red making them look like a drop of blood in a calm pond; they were Jefferson's favourite thing about his lover. His hair hung in jet black locks around his face similar to that of an Animé character, smooth to the touch and never out of place even after his morning jog; a trait the Medical Examiner envied. His left ear had been pierced as a teen but he'd long since stopped wearing the small silver earring, much to his boss' pleasure. His features were sharp and made him utterly beautiful, as though carved by the Gods – Sebastian believed his forehead to be too big though in reality it was just as perfectly proportioned as the rest of his face – the sort of man that could make any woman swoon without even trying, that didn't matter though because Jefferson was the only one Sebastian had eyes for, ever would. Long fingers lay at the end of his large hands coated in fine black hairs that vanished into his sleeves, slender fingers that often found themselves twisting pens around his ambidextrous hands, sometimes absent-mindedly, sometimes not. Larroquette had never been one for suit jackets – he found them restricting and cage-like – however, every one he owned was well cared for and fit perfectly, some were ridiculously flamboyant in patterns that few men could have pulled off. He may have hated suit jackets but there was no denying he adored waistcoats, he was never without one, each one beloved and cared for. Sebastian spoke with an accent far more subtle that his boss' thick northern one, it had been dulled after so many years in King's Landing but at the end of sentences it emerged and showed he'd clearly originated from the windy shit hole known as The Fingers. Sebastian often wore sibley reading glasses made of a silver-grey metal which only added to his beauty, they added a secondary layer of mystery to him but in reality Sebastian used them as a mask. Sebastian Tomoe Larroquette was a true Adonis, if he and Oren Heyerdahl stood side by side one looked angelic while the other appeared demonic; however just because Sebastian _looked_ angelic didn't mean he truly was. So many idiots had ended up dead because they had gone ahead and judged the book by its cover, and most of those presumptuous simpletons had deserved it.

The last of their little trio was Doctor Jefferson Von Voltaire – commonly known simply as Voltaire – he wasn't only the best Medical Examiner in King's Landing but Sebastian's long time boyfriend, which gave him the perk of being one of only two people in all of creation allowed to call him Seb without getting punched in the throat, sometimes Sebby if Jefferson felt particularly brave.

Doctor Von Voltaire could only be described as kooky, he may have been the M.E but his personality was far from macabre or at least most of the time yet some  of his jokes could be pretty morbid. N ormally he filled the role of happy-go-lucky, a man who constantly wore a sexy smile, a sparkle in his eyes  and a skip in his step . He wasn't quite as muscular as Sebastian but his milky skin was  just as toned and held far more strength than it seemed, he'd always been chubby in the face though which just provided him an innocent cuteness. Voltaire's hair had been styled in a messy quiff of dark auburn almost chestnut locks that made his eyes really pop, they were cerulean – the sort of eyes one could easily get lost in – with a bold black ring around the edge of his iris  and a scattering of gold which just made them seem even deeper, almost like something out of a fairytale. There was a dinted scar on the right side of his upper lip from a fight years ago but it was far less noticeable that the one Oren wore; more a faded memory than anything else . He spoke with a posh accent, the sort that only came out of the Reach, he'd grown up on ly  a stones throw from Highgarden; an investment banking firm that had made the  Tyrell family practically the most wealthy in all of Westerose.  Jefferson had talented fingers that always got to work quickly, his thumbs were spoon-shaped and perfectly manicured despite his occupation; he wasn't the sort of man to let what he wanted slip from his grasp . Normally Jefferson was seen in his uniform, white scrubs and thick boots as well as his long lab coat when in his office, but in reality Jefferson was more of the Victorian Gothic persuasion; the police had long ago gotten used to him showing up in his long Gothic burgundy colored frock coat rather than his assigned black  polyester jacket with M.E written neatly across the back in large yellow letters. N o one really questioned it his oddness , instead they just referred to him as kooky like everyone else. Another ever present item was a simple silver bracelet on the inside of which had been engraved the words  _for my love_ , it had been a birthday gift  from Seb when he'd turned thirty and he'd worn it ever since; at heart Jefferson was the sentimental sort.

In summary they were three very different men, Oren was cruel and full of his own self-importance, Sebastian, stoic and quite frankly a genius surround by adolescent morons and lastly was Jefferson, their Gothic joker. A strange little team and so the three of them made it work; they didn't have much choice.

 

~X~

It was either excruciatingly late or really early when the beautiful Tristan Baelish, a sweet four year old with a dark mop known as hair padded into the  yacht bedroom of his parents; the heavy rain had probably woken him. C arefully he tried to clamber up onto the bed,  hands fisting at the green duvet,  but all he succeeded in doing was pulling the covers off his Father and waking the elder man. Grey- green  eyes fluttered open and glanced down to the small boy stood by his bed, he didn't say a word just picked up the child and pulled him up onto the bed with ease before settling Tristan between himself and a still sleeping Sansa. It took the four-year old only a few seconds to slip back off into slumber  and dreams of dragons after  Sansa instinctively tucked her arm around him pulling their son closer to her chest. It was the perfect image of family; Petyr had Sansa, two beautiful children,  Tristan and Poppy, a protective dog and the most powerful company in all of Westeros. Being CEO of Lion and Stag Enterprises pretty much made him a  King  in the modern world, especially after he'd brought Iron Isle Shipping into the fold. Theon had been his in for their company but Yara Greyjoy was the one with the business mind, she would make that company into something to be proud of now that their Father and Uncle were gone. It also gave him another angle at Daenerys Targaryen's thriving company other than her right hand  man Tyrion Lannister who'd gone rather silent since he'd crossed the Narrow Sea after Tywin's death. 

The Mockingbird club continued to thrive rather  substantial ly  as Petyr always knew it would, rich people would always want pretty young things to fuck without questions. However, none of that was important as he lay there with Sansa and the eldest of his children cuddled to his side aboard their yacht, the gentle swaying and sound of rain splattering against the hull soothing them back of to sleep.

Sansa's strength had grown to new heights over the last three years – almost four – and he'd even taught her about what being a Vice President meant, his girl was a quick study and had gotten the hang o f t hings, her clever mind stored everything he taught her away for later . Often Petyr would have to help her but she'd gathered the bravery and knowledge to contribute to meetings on more than one occasion  showing she was far more than her age suggested or Petyr's trophy wife . There were times though where her courage failed her and  Petyr would have to help; always her hero to the rescue.

Still, none of it mattered, he was at peace sleeping beside his wife, that was when he forgot who he was and what he'd done, everything would just stop and he'd descend into a fairytale like sleep; until a disconcerting chill ran up his spine. At first he'd thought it was the sway of his luxury yacht on the water but he couldn't fool himself into believing it was that for more than a second.

This wasn't going to be good... he could tell.


	2. The Busy Mind Of Man

Dawn eventually arrived as it did every morning without fail, darkness and thick rain had given way to a shining sun and white sand heated by golden rays, it would still be raining miles away in King's Landing but out on the sea it was quite another story. Happily birds sang as they flew through the sky or perched in the trees of the nearby uninhabited island no larger two football fields. Calm waves rocked Baelish's large yacht in almost rhythmic pattens that sometimes chimed into music. 

Everything went normally, Petyr woke first as always and flipped on the coffee machine before he started breakfast for Sansa and the kids – today was pancakes, strawberry for Sansa and Tristan, chocolate for Poppy and himself – before he headed back to his cabin – kissing Sansa as he went – to get dressed while Sansa took over breakfast. They made quite the little team; efficient and worked around each other exquisitely. Normally he'd have dressed for the day in his favourite jet black suit with dark plum shirt and Italian leather shoes, however, with the day promising to warm up he donned a simple pair of maroon surfer shorts as well as a loose, short-sleeved white shirt, the collar remained open revealing his chest spattered lightly with dark hair. 

When he went back up the narrow staircase to the kitchen he found his children sat on the blue-white couch at the table eating their pancakes while his beautiful Sansa – who still wore her short blue satin nightdress – poured her husband a cup of coffee; Petyr always needed coffee first thing in the morning. Petyr went to the redhead and slipped his long arms around her thin waist and pulled her close so her back was to his chest. 

“Morning, Sweetling.” He said before pressing a kiss to her long neck, it had healed greatly in the nearly four years since he'd first found Sansa but it would never be gone. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Petyr.” 

She offered him his coffee cup which Petyr took gratefully before raising it to his soft lips and took a sip. 

“Go and get dressed, Baby girl.” He told Sansa before pressing another kiss to her porcelain neck. “I'll take care of Tristan and Poppy.” 

Sansa hummed a little and then padded off happily to dress for the day, the dark-haired man with green-grey eyes glanced over to see his son and daughter eating happily before flicking on the small television that called the corner of his kitchen counter home, seemed there was a new news report; Petyr sipped his hot coffee. 

_ In the early hours of this morning Police located a mass graveyard deep in the forest that surrounds King's Landing, specifically an ancient area of the forest that is said to be haunted due to the constant fog and just how isolated it is. The area is named Dwellers Hollow- _

Petyr spat out his coffee. “Holy shit!” 

 

_ The KLPD are yet to give a statement regarding the gruesome case, however, Detective Inspector Oren Heyerdah _ _ l of the Major Crimes Division has been assigned. It's believed that at least forty-five bodies have been discovered so far... _

 

Suddenly that cold shiver he'd felt the night before became clear, Petyr didn't listen to anymore of the woman on the news, just wiped away the coffee from his lips and chin. Sansa came charging into the room, she wore a yellow halter-neck dress with a sweetheart neckline, lined in black and came down to her mid-thigh, as usual she wore no shoes, it was the panic in her eyes Petyr noticed first though. 

“What's wrong?” She asked quickly before looking at the television, there was an almost non-existent pause before she spoke again without taking her eyes from the reporter. “Tristan, baby, can you take your sister and Lady downstairs to play for me please?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

Said the little boy before he grabbed Copper the wolf – who over the years had become Tristan's rather than Sansa's – and held the hand of his little sister as they went down the narrow staircase with Lady padding behind them; she was bigger than both of them but like a teddy bear in reality. As soon as their son and Poppy were out of sight Sansa raced to her husband's side and cuddled into his chest knowing her presence would comfort him, her head rested on his shoulder. 

“... How bad is it?”

“Very.” For a time it appeared as though that one word was all he'd say, so much so that Sansa actually jumped when he finally spoke again. “That is my dumpsite, there are a lot of people buried there including Cersei.” 

“Can they trace it to you? To us?”

“No. Cersei is the only one of them I actually killed, the others I cleaned from all over King's Landing. I was thorough – always am – there's no evidence of me or who murdered them.” He took a breath. “Still, this isn't good. Heyerdahl is like a dog with a bone, he'll just keep coming like an angry bull. I need to go over each body that's in Dwellers Hollow, make a hundred percent sure that there's nothing that can connect me.” Petyr set the coffee cup down on the counter but his wife didn't release him. 

“You moved bodies for the Lannisters and the Baratheons right? They are all gone now save for Tyrion, Jaime, Tommen and Myrcella and they're no threat, so you don't need to worry about any guilty consciences.”

“There were a lot more people than just those two families, Sweetling. Like I said, I need to think about this.” 

“What about Tristan? We came out on the yacht because it was what he wanted to do for his birthday, he's four. And you promised to help Poppy with her swimming today.”

All of that was true, Tristan hadn't wanted a large party or anything like that – much like his father he detested pretending to care about the morons around him – and instead just wanted a nice weekend with his little sister, Mother and constantly working Father; Poppy just wanted to go swimming. Petyr smiled thinking about his young daughter splashing about with glee. 

“Mmm I was, and you were going to wear that new swimsuit I got you.” The older man leaned in and kissed his wife in a soft but loving brush of lips.

“I said I _might_ wear it. You know I don't like Tris and Poppy seeing my scars.”

“Maybe after they've gone to bed then? For me?” He asked in a deep voice as he pulled Sansa closer to his warm chest. 

“How could I ever say no to you?” She smiled. 

“Good.” He took a breath. “Sweetling it would be suspicious if we suddenly went back, we've only been out here two days, especially before it's been announced Cersei is down there. Identifying Cersei is going to take a while and I won't let my son's birthday weekend be ruined. Tristan and Poppy Baelish want for nothing! Keep them detracted for a while and I'll be out later. Oh and make sure Lady has her life jacket.” 

“Alright. Are you okay?”

He smiled, one of those real smiles that only Sansa and his children ever got to see, only a few years ago Sansa would have been dominated by worry over what the dump site having been found meant; no more though. Petyr was a genius and had proven that he would never let any harm come to his family. Long ago he's said that the Lannisters sort revenge for their families while Petyr would kill anyone before they got the chance to harm his own; Sansa believed him.

Sansa knew that Tris and Poppy would be upset their Daddy spent most of the day in his office but between herself, Lady and the sun the kids would be distracted long enough. With another kiss Sansa left the room and went to get the children dressed. Petyr stood there for a while as the reporter continued to talk, problems were going to come, of that Baelish had no doubt, he had his connections and cunning personality though; he could over come this.

 

~X~

 

Hours went by with Petyr locked up in his office while his wife and children played out on the deck in the sun with Lady. Petyr hadn't purchased a Hatteras 80 Motor Yacht after all for nothing after all, Sansa had said if he spent five million on a tri deck yacht she'd slap him so after some searching he'd chosen the Hatteras, he still had the smaller boat – _Chaos –_ but there had been so many dead bodies on it that  Sansa wasn't comfortable having the kids around it. The yacht office was reasonably sized and lined with cherry wood panels and a cream carpet, there were no windows since his office was in the middle of the yacht – which he'd named _Lily_ after his mother – so the room was lit with soft wall lights. A large desk of a similar cherry wood to the walls  was pushed up against the left side of the room while a green-grey couch had been pressed against the other, a much more basic office than at home, Lion and Stag or his club but it saw little use so that didn't really matter.

In the time he'd been there Petyr had accumulated a list of all he'd cleaned, he'd never listed them before, not on paper at least, it had always remained in his head where no one could use it against him. He'd left those that had been fed to the sharks off his little list. There were so many unnamed prostituted listed forcing him to separate them via description in his neat handwriting. Male, thirties, Hawaiian shirt. Female, teens, blue sued stilettos and white dress. One of the most distressing bodies he'd buried was a child who'd been raped and strangled by one of the lesser known Lannisters almost fifteen years ago, she'd only been a year or so older than Tristan and had sparked a year-long search. The sight had disturbed him even back then but now? If someone went near Poppy he'd flay them. No one touches his children! No one! Petyr had an excellent memory – had to – and a very high IQ that easily tabled him genius, to look at him most would say smart but not genius level. People underestimated him until it was too late and that was just how Baelish liked it. He remember every body he'd ever cleaned and who for, all that information was locked up in his cunning mind. 

_N avy Alluni. He'd been thirty-one when he died, been murdered. Navy was a bartender at The Bear, a club run by Jorah Mormont, and had one day managed to piss off Joffrey – probably the fact the blonde bastard had been to young to be in a club – which had lead to Petyr cleaning up his kicked in head from the ally behind the bar at two in the morning. Baelish had been overjoyed when he'd discovered that the cameras had been broken for almost a week, it had saved him a job. That had been five and a half years ago._

_ Tammin Telford was Tywin's mistress, or at least she had been until the stupid twenty-seven year old had threatened to report his illegal activities to the media unless he paid her off. Tywin had slit her throat about forty seconds after she'd confronted him and to be honest Petyr thought Tammin deserved death for her stupidity. Ten years had gone by since Baelish had put her in the ground.  _

_ Safiya Lesmono had made a similar mistake as Tywin's mistress a few years before Tammin Telford and had simply been shot by one of Tywin's men. A shame really because Petyr had thought her beautiful in a plane sort of way, she'd been younger than Tammin too, only seventeen.  _

_ Mangus Isley had lost a drunk game of Russian roulette with Robert Baratheon about seventeen years ago and his best friend Rami Cudlitz had gone a round later.  _

At the very bottom of Petyr's list was the man who'd started it all twenty-five years ago when  Petyr was at university but that was another story. Petyr went over every single corpse in Dwellers Hollow as though it were some great puzzle to be solved, as soon as they returned to the house he'd find out exactly who was on Heyerdahl's team and which Medical Examiner  had been assigned;  _that many bodies, it's got to Voltaire._ That man was the best in King's Landing and if Petyr had missed anything Jefferson Von Voltaire would find it. After a few hours he came to the  conclusion that he and his clients were safe – not that he cared that much for them – which meant that so were Sansa and his children.  No one of any real importance was buried down there save for Cersei, seemed even in death she was causing him problems. Petyr was CEO if Lion and Stag Enterprises now and Sansa was his Vice President, his children were Baelishs and recognised as powerful by that alone, he wouldn't let one moron who'd found a good dumpsite and a woman who'd been dead for almost four years pull it all down.  Petyr Amyas Baelish didn't get  outmanoeuvred !  Also, Heyerdahl was a total idiot so he had little to fear from him.  _Overgrown ape,_ Petyr's mind mumbled. 

Petyr hadn't killed anyone since Cersei and she'd had over three years to decompose, Jaime still had missing posters up but her children didn't seem bothered any longer;  Tommen and Myrcella had moved on.  Jaime Lannister had actually done very well for himself in Dorne, Vaith Incorporated kept going from strength to strength and no one dared question his CSO Brienne; she'd permanently taken up the post six months or so after Jaime had taken over.  The woman may have been overgrown and as fierce as a rabid bear but she was smart and had a good heart,  which in all honesty meant very little to Petyr but over the years Sansa had taken a liking to Brienne. 

Suddenly Sansa knocked on his office door and jolted him from his thoughts and memories, the redhead pushed open the large door as  his grey-green eyes looked up.  She was stunningly beautiful in her yellow dress  and bare feet , it made her skin glow  with innocence.  Sansa hardly ever wore shoes unless leaving the house – even in winter – and her hair hung loose around her face and shoulders, oh how he loved that crimson cloak  of hers.  She smiled softly but Petyr was her husband and Master, he knew what that look really meant;  _I'm worried about you._ He didn't speak, just pushed his chair back away from the desk and patted his leg in invitation.  Instantly she settled in his lap and cuddled into her husbands chest. 

“Are you alright, Master?” 

Petyr chuckled softly. 

“You only call me that when you're scared or want to be fucked, which is it, my little wife?” 

Petyr nipped at her neck as he pulled her to straddle him. Their lips locked for a time in a heated kiss. Their tongues met in a battle for dominance that Petyr quickly won, their foreheads touched every now and again when they separated for air before letting their lips brush against each other's once more. Her scent flooded his senses, their kiss wasn't innocent more like a tease, hot, fiery, passionate and demanding.

“I love you.” She told him with nothing but truth in her dazzling blue eyes. “But unfortunately it's the former.” 

“Shame.” He muttered into her long hair. “The latter is much more fun.” 

S he flashed him another one of those looks, the one that said  _you're changing the subject,_ Sansa was well  acquainted with his methods of distraction. 

He sighed. “I'm fine, Sweetling. I can't think of any impending issue and it's not like I can just go and dig them all up. Cersei is the only one that could even remotely lead back to me.” 

“Did you use your gun?” Petyr smiled at the question asked into his chest, his girl had picked up a lot from her husband and not all of it legal. 

“No, Sweetling. Her own which got broken down and scattered.”

“Cameras?”

Petyr grinned and pressed another kiss to his wife's forehead. “You're getting good at this, My Love. I dealt with all of that years ago and the man I used to wipe all of that won't tell anyone because I know about his murder porn collection. If anything else arises I'll figure it out on the fly.”

“You can talk your way out of anything, can't you?”

“Everything except being a horse for my three-year old daughter.” 

Sansa smiled, mirroring his own, Poppy loved it when he did that for her. The great Petyr Baelish brought to his knees by a toddler. Then again, Poppy was Daddy's little princess, she could get away with just about anything.  


“Just promise me you'll come to bed tonight, please? I love you.” Her face was decorated with love.

“I love you too, Sweetling.” Petyr pulled her closer to his chest. Sansa loved the way he always smelt of mint, she'd come to associate that scent with safety. 

“Can't the Lannisters just leave us alone? Except Tyrion.” She added quickly. 

Sansa had grown quite close to Tyrion, if anyone other than Petyr had found her Sansa hoped it would have been Tyrion. He may have been half their height but that didn't mean he deserved half their respect, he even rivalled Petyr when it came to sarcasm. 

Sansa had though it was over after Cersei died, thought she and her family were free to live their lives but everything had come flooding back. Fate was a cruel mistress.  


“Lannisters unfortunately have a nasty habit of coming back, just appearing out of the woodwork. Don't concern yourself, My Love.”

The two sat in silence for a brief time just enjoying one another's company. It was almost a tradition that Sansa would sit on his lap in one of Petyr's offices and just let him hold her, his touch alone made her feel safe and as though she could accomplish anything, Petyr was her rock while Tris and Poppy were her purpose. 

“Will you come and have something to eat?” She asked after about ten minutes later.

“I told you I'd cook.”

“Petyr, it's eleven at night. Poppy and Tristan are asleep, I did knock earlier but you never answered.”

Petyr paused.

“Have I been in here all day?” He could have sworn it had only been a few hours but eleven o'clock at night? He'd been lost deep in his thoughts. “I'm sorry, Sansa.” He kissed his wife. “Let's just go to bed, I'll make it up to the children tomorrow. I need to turn my brain off.” 

Sansa grinned as she rose to her feet pulling Petyr up by his hand, she certainly knew how to get him to switch off... and he did want to see her in that new swimsuit after all.

 

** Petyr's Yacht (Lily)... **

** **


	3. One Problem After Another

Doctor Jefferson Von Voltaire had spent most of the day on his knees; and not in a good way. He'd been performing preliminary autopsies for each new corpse that came up from the earth. Men, women, old and young, black, white; people of every race and creed. There was nothing to connect them save for the fact they were dead; Sebastian Larroquette was looking into their identities. Most had been strangled or shot but each death was different, the doctor needed to perform real post-mortems of course to get any real information with which to aid his long time boyfriend. Oren Heyerdahl may have been the DI on the case but it was DS Larroquette that did all the hard legwork; in all honesty he deserved more credit. 

Forty-nine bodies had been exhumed from the graveyard by four in the afternoon and at least another twelve awaited unearthing. Each body had been buried separately with years between some of them. Jefferson had a  _lot_ of work ahead of him.  His forensic photographer looked ready to  pass out.  The eldest body Jefferson was sure had been there about twenty to twenty-five years while the most recent had only been buried around six to seven.  Others were yet to be discovered though of that the doctor and Sergeant were certain. Strangely they had also found a body off to the side of the neat rows that looked as though whoever had put it there wanted it in total isolation, in Seb's opinion that would be their best chance at discovering who had committed the horrible crimes. 

Oren had been barking orders all day as usual and Doctor Von Voltaire had endured just about enough of it, He'd turned the police detective out of his lab shortly after they'd arrived at the mortuary that which had dramatically increased his work rate.

He stood there before the steel tables and gurneys covered with bodies, so many of them, some had skin hanging from their old bones while other's were just skeletons. Every single one of the dead had lost their fingertip and most had their teeth pulled making identification almost impossible. The eldest bodies would no doubt remain nameless, poor souls. Someone had gone to a great deal of effort to hide who they were. Sebastian and Jefferson had quite a task ahead of themselves. 

 

XXXX

 

He'd ended up locked in his office the night before thinking about his dumpsite problem so hadn't taught Poppy to swim like he'd promised, however, his daughter didn't seem to be willing to let him miss another day. After breakfast she'd launched and told him in that broken child speak of hers that she was going to put on her bathing suit and he was going to teach her to swim; even at three she was determined and unwavering. Sansa had taken Poppy and Tris off to get changed while Petyr had poured himself a second cup of coffee and looked over the morning news that continued to go on and on about the death of Jon Arryn. When he'd emerged onto the deck Tristan had already been splashing about with Sansa while Poppy petted Lady on the dock. Petyr crept up behind his daughter and pulled her into his arms, she yelped happily. 

“Daddy!” Poppy beamed.

“I believe someone demanded a swimming lesson.”

Suddenly he threw her into the big blue and tugged his shirt over his head before diving in after Poppy and starting her lesson just like he'd taught Sansa all those years ago. 

Sansa just watched Petyr and her daughter for a while, he was a fantastic father and Poppy was certainly a daddy's girl. Tristan looked just like him even though he was adopted, Poppy's hair was exactly the same as her mother's and Catelyn's but her eyes and smile were all Petyr. If Sansa had been told four years ago that she'd be swimming in the sun with her husband and children she'd have laughed at them, but there she was happy and loved. Their family had been thrown together by death, destruction and horror but it was their family and they were happy. 

The sound of Tristan and his sister laughing filled Sansa's ears and she felt a wave of peace wash over her just as the cool ocean water did. They'd be back home come the next afternoon so the redhead wanted to make the most of it, wanted to savour every single second. 

Despite all the thoughts and concerns going on in the Petyr's mind he had promised his children a barbecue on the beach, so late in the afternoon he'd rowed himself, his wife, Lady and the children over to the small uninhabited island off the port side of his yacht. _And after they're asleep we can have our own time,_ he'd told Sansa before they set sail. _Mmm , Master, _she'd purred before placing a kiss to his lips and turning to walk away. _Come on, they're rich kids who are impatient after all,_ she'd told him. Petyr had just laughed as he'd slipped Lady into her life jacket. _No, I'm rich. They won't be rich 'til I'm dead. _

That had been hours ago, the light had faded, his children had eaten, fallen asleep  in the beach tent  and – thankfully – Lady had tired herself out  leaving Petyr and Sansa cuddled on the beach wrapped in a soft blue cotton blanket.  Even through the peace of their setting he could sense his wife's tension, Petyr had a plan to protect them though, a plan that had been in motion since his late teens. 

“I know you're worried, My Love, but please don't be.” He pulled Sansa closer. “Nothing is going to happen to us, I won't let it.” 

Sansa wanted to believe him, wanted to let go her worries and concerns and focus on her husbands calloused fingers on her skin but there was something lurking at the very back of her mind that wasn't going to leave her any time  soon. 

“I love you, Master.” 

“I love you too, Sweetling.” 

Sansa yawned, mouth going wide so much so that her jaw ached for a moment or two.

“Time you went to be me thinks.” He wore one of those smiles, the ones that actually reached his eyes and were only for his family. 

“I'm not tired.” She protested before yawning again.

“Yes you are, baby girl.” 

Easily he picked her up and sat her in the boat then retreated his sleeping children – they could sleep through just about anything – and setting them down in Sansa's arms. He quickly packed up everything and took them all back to the ship. 

 

X XXX

 

Petyr strode into Lion and Stag like he owned the place – well, because he did – and headed straight up to his office pausing only to greet Gwendolyn, his loyal assistant. He'd been sweet and caring father of two while out on the yacht but he was back now and the powerful Littlerfinger had returned to play. 

“Morning, Sir.” The woman with dyed blond hair smiled up at him. “How was Tristan's birthday? I bet he got spoilt.”

Her own son, Lukas, was only four years older than Petyr's so she often took interest in Tristan and Poppy. 

“Indeed he did, Alayne showered him with gifts. Is there any mail?” 

Petyr didn't particularly like the chit-chat but he put up with it when it came to Gwendolyn because of how good she was at her job, she also knew everything that happened with the lower down staff and fed it straight to him. 

“Lucky boy, and yes there are a few things. Miss Cratter sent over this file for you too.” She handed everything over, it wasn't a particularly thick stack, in fact it was smaller than usual. “Also, Draven broke the photocopier so making copies is going to be a little slow until that's fixed, it should be done within the hour.” 

“I leave for three days-” He cut his quiet mutterings off.

“Oh, I almost forgot, there's also a package for you from Tyrion Lannister.” She handed that over as well, it was wrapped up in brown paper and had Tyrion's neat handwriting on the front. “Also Mister Tally wanted to speak with you, I told him to come back at two o'clock.” 

“Thank you.”

With that Petyr vanished into his office and fell down into his desk chair. After he'd had Tywin's office broken back down into three offices like it had originally been his own corner office had doubled in size, yes it would have been easier to just move into Tywin's but he wanted to keep the view of the ocean; he was a Pluviophile after all . Petyr had also made quick work of redecorating the office next to his as Sansa's own; she was the Vice President after all. Sansa didn't use her office that often but it was goof to have a show of power, not just CEO and VP but a husband and wife united and occupying half the fifty-first floor. 

In the years since Petyr had taken over Lion and Stag had become even more profitable especially with the aid of Iron Isle Shipping allowing them to access even more of Westeros. People had once revered the name Lannister but now the name Baelish had taken their place. 

Petyr pulled off the paper from the package and tugged open the box, inside was a smaller box wrapped in red paper and topped with a letter, Baelish quickly opened it and started to read. 

 

_ Dear Petyr, _

_ I and Daenerys wish to speak with you regarding a new business venture at some point, I intend to contact Lion and Stag soon but that is not why I'm writing. I believe this will arrive a little late for young Tristan's birthday but I saw it and couldn't stop laughing. Mini you!  _

_Regards_

_ Tyrion Lannister _

_PS._

_Slap Ros' ass for me._

 

Petyr didn't open it, not because it was for his son but because he didn't much care as to its contents, instead Petyr just set it aside for later and set to work. An hour or so later Varys knocked and entered without waiting for a  _come in._

“I see the King of the Ashes has returned.” Said the bald man, Varys had taken to calling the CEO that soon after Jaime had announced he was leaving for Dorne; Petyr certainly like the 'King' part. 

“Do you need something, Varys?” Petyr asked without looking up. “If so do make it quick.” 

The CHRO could have rolled his eyes. “Of course,  _My Lord.”_ He cleared his throat. “One of the assistants on the ninth floor has just submitted a sexual harassment complaint.” 

“Names.” It wasn't a question.

“Yura Cornell and Raznor Halemont.” 

“And you haven't dealt with this already because? You are CHRO after all, or did I make a mistake when I kept you?” Petyr finally glanced up with his bold moss colored eyes. 

“Oh I assure you, I swept into action but – as she put it – she wants _the shit scared out of him_ and apparently you are the only person capable of doing that for her with any satisfaction.” 

“Have him sent to my office.”  Petyr looked up again. “Now, if there's nothing else, get out. I can't take the glare from your head any longer.” 

“Of course, I feel the need to escape your facial hair as well.”

With their sparing over Varys left for his own office leaving Petyr to continue his work. A few minutes later Gwendolyn brought him a cup of dark coffee, black as night and sweet as sin, which he promptly gulped down. Soon enough Gwendolyn alerted him that Raznor Halemont was outside via the intercom box and Petyr ordered him inside;  Petyr then promptly tore him a new one. 

“Have your desk cleared out within the hour and get the hell out of my building.” His voice might have been calm but the words bit like an angry dragon, Petyr had learnt long ago that a calm man was far more terrifying than one who yelled and screamed. Petyr leaned over to the intercom. “Gwendolyn, have Clegane escort Halemont from the building.” 

Raznor – who was approximately thirty-three with sandy blonde hair and eyes so dark the seemed black upon first glance – shot up from his chair opposite Petyr with a look of thunder. 

“You can't fire me! That bitch lied! Who are you going to believe, the chief assistant for the legal department or the girl that gets the coffee?” 

“Is this some bizarre attempt at being amusing or are you actually serious?” There was a split second where neither man said anything. “Serious then. Well, considering you've just called Miss Cornell a lying bitch and suggested to me that you're somehow of more importance to me than her, of course then there's the fact she's not the first woman to accuse you of harassment, I'm going to go ahead and believe her. You're argument is so stupid that I wish it had a face for me to slap. So, get out of my office, clean your shit from your desk and enjoy looking for another job. Good day Mister Halemont.” 

“I'll kill your for this!” The blonde suddenly erupted but Petyr didn't even look back up from his papers. 

“Don't make too much noise about it.”

At that moment Clegane entered Petyr's office and dragged Raznor out, after his little outburst he'd never work again.  Gwendolyn leaned against the foorframe to Petyr's office watching Clegane tug Raznor to the elevator. 

“Set Sandor Clegane on him, you really wanted to terrorise him.” There was almost a chuckle in her voice. “I told Yura you'd destroy him for her.” Finally she turned to face Baelish who had risen from his desk and had made short work of stacking his files up. “They're in the boardroom waiting for you and Mister Creed is complaining you're late. 

“Athelstan Creed always complains, he's worse than Pycelle was.” 

Inside the boardroom he found all his high level executives – save for Clegane – already at their seats... including his wife. She wore a black dress with queen Ann neckline and matching heels – he didn't really like it when she woe heels since they made her so much taller than him but sat there looking perfect he didn't much care – the large diamond of her wedding ring shone brightly marking her as his for all to see. She had very little make up on, she'd never been much of a fan but the pale pink lipstick worked to make her flaming hair even bolder,  _Gods she's beautiful._ He just wanted to bend her over the desk and take  h e r right there for everyone to see.  Petyr could remember the bruises and dirt that had coated her when he first found her but now she looked like royalty,  powerful and ready to take on the world; he was so proud of her.  Petyr went straight to his Sweetling and pressed a soft kiss to her lips before taking his seat at the head of the table. 

“Morning Sweetling.” He greeted with a smile. Petyr knew every man in the building was jealous of him, Sansa was so beautiful and all his. 

When  the CSO entered and took his seat Petyr's mind snapped back to him. 

“Has the horny rabbit left the burrow?”

“Yes.” Said the abnormally tall man with scars down his face. “I don't think he likes me.” 

“You have that effect on people.” Said Varys and Petyr couldn't help but give one of those smug little grins of his. 

Athelstan Creed, the CTO or Chief Technology Officer, suddenly piped up in that grumbling tone of his.

“Can we get to the reason we're all here-” Before her could continue his whining Viktorya Cratter, Petyr's successor as CFO talked over him. 

“As you suggested changes have been made to the communication times between ourselves and Essos, you were right, Mister Baelish, the staff are happier, working at better efficiency and the change has turned out to be profitable.”

“Good.” Announced Baelish. “I want a stock movement report as well, also get me the stats on Marat Shinatose, he lost three million and before I left and only made one-point-six million back.” 

“What about the system breach?” Asked Sansa with a voice like silk. 

“Breach?” Petyr directed his raised eyebrows to Athelstan. 

“The techs noticed someone trying to gain access to our data at two-fifteen this morning-”

“And don't you think I should have been told about this, oh I don't know, when it happened!” 

“Apologies.” 

Athelstan Creed knew next to nothing about technology and had always had a sense of superiority that annoyed just about everyone around him, he  needed replacing in all honesty and after this blunder he would be, his vice CTO Negate Winters; Petyr would deal with that later though. 

“It looked as though they were trying to install a honeypot, however the head of my IT team averted it and booted them from the system. The police have been notified and I have a meeting scheduled with them at noon, I'll have a full report for you after that.” 

“No, you'll bring them to my office once they arrive I want to know everything about this.”

The meeting went on for a while after that and Petyr grew steadily more bored, little of the information given to him was important after the system breech and Petyr found himself staring at his angelic Sansa. The way her stocking peeked out from her dress where he legs were crossed and the innocent but still teasing view of her cleavage just made him want her all the more. Petyr almost didn't notice when the meeting finally ended, he'd been looking at his wife but everything came flooding back when Sansa rose from her seat and straddled him; that he certainly noticed. 

“Are you alright, Master?” She asked softly. Sansa had come so far he'd first found her, to the untrained eye it was almost as though it had never happened. 

“Yes, Sweetling.” 

Problem one, Petyr's dumpsite of the last two decades had been discovered by authorities. Problem two, Jon Arryn had just died – which was about bloody time – leaving Vale Limited under the control of the crazy bitch known as Lysa, that lead to problem two subsection A; there would be a wake and Sansa still detested crowds and didn't want there children anywhere near her aunt. Problem three, someone was trying to hack into his company. Despite all that though Sansa wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body to him made it all go away. 

“There's a lot of tension in your shoulders, let me help?” Petyr nodded knowing exactly where this was going.

Sansa slipped from his lap and onto her knees, his belt came undone quickly and Sansa pulled her husband free of his pants and slowly ran her delicate hands up his thighs, teasing her way toward the prize. Petyr stared down at her with a knowing grin firmly plastered upon his lips. The red headed beauty reached into his boxers and caressed his balls briefly pulling a moan from his lips before settling her hand upon his manhood. He was painfully hard and desperate for her, he ached for her every single day. A needy moan escapes his slightly parted lips as Sansa continue to massage and squeeze him tormentingly seeing if she could tempt him into dominance, maybe a woman with her past shouldn't have wanted that but Sansa did. When Petyr showed his dominant side it wasn't violent or abusive, it came from love for her, from his want to constantly be with her and protect her.

Sansa let out a little groan of greedy want as she took him in hand and stroked him, feeling his substantial girth fill her palm, thumbs lightly running over the sweet spot just below the head on the outer side of his cock, she revelled in the gasp it brought. Her cerulean eyes flashed up to watch his own eyes flutter shut, Petyr's hands snaked into her long red hair gripping it tight, he didn't force her to him just held her there, his chest rose and fell as he drew in fresh air, the only thing cooling his heated body. Petyr's tongue flicked over his top lip momentarily before his green-grey eyes managed to open again and he looked down to his sweet Sansa.

“Fuck! That's it Sansa.” 

She grinned at his desire for her, locking her eyes with the man she loved Sansa took Petyr deep into her wet mouth and groaned. 

“Fuck, yes!” He moaned with a buck of his hips.

She alternated between long sucks and strokes of her hand punctuated by Sansa swirling her tongue around the head, she loved the noises he made, all for her, because of her. Her head bobbed as her nails dug into his thighs hungrily. Suddenly his hips bucked again, she could see how hard he was tying to resist thrusting into her mouth. He was so close and Sansa threw every ounce of passion she had into her movements, when his hips started to buck uncontrollably Sansa was forced to hold them in place until finally he came. 

White erupted behind Petyr's closed eyes as his release came, her name on his lips, gasped out almost as though he were dying. Petyr didn't deserve Sansa, he knew that but he was selfish and wouldn't ever let her go. He'd have Sansa until his dying day and even the she'd still be Alayne Baelish,  _his_ wife, the mother of  _his_ children. 


	4. The Wake

 

The day of Jon Arryn's wake came and Sansa flat-out refused to let her two beautiful children attend, not because it was morbid but because she wanted them as far from Lysa as possible. She didn't remember much of her childhood before Joffrey but she could remember her Aunt Lysa babysitting on one occasion, she and her siblings had spent the whole evening walking on egg shells. In all honesty Olyvar – the brothel worker – probably wasn't the best babysitter either but Sansa trusted him alone with Tristan and Poppy far more that she did Lysa in a fifty foot radius of them. Petyr hadn't put up much of a fight about it when Sansa had voiced her concerns, he'd actually agreed whole heartedly with his wife; that was how the two young children had found themselves playing with Uncle Olyvar in their living room. 

Petyr lead Sansa into the large mansion that Lysa and her son, Robin, called home, her arm was looped with his and she kept close to his side, there were so many people, half of them with their eyes on her and half on Baelish thinking him a cradle-snatcher. Yes, Petyr was older than her but did that really matter? She was happy with him, safe and loved, they had two beautiful children. should age have really come between that? 

A few of the attendants she'd seen before, some just in passing like Anya Waynwood, the late Jon Arryn's CLO. Others she'd had more dealings with such as Yohn Royce who was Vale Limited's CFO just like Petyr had been once upon a time for Lion and Stag.

Soon Petyr was making polite conversation as he moved around the packed room with his hand on Sansa's waist keeping her close and safe but also to remind those that gazed at her that Sansa was his and only his. He greeted the Tyrells and for a moment she'd thought Margaery had noticed the scaring on her neck, Sansa only realised she'd been holding her breath when the beautiful woman looked away having seen nothing. Long ago Sansa had learnt how to cover her scars, they'd faded in the years she'd been with Petyr but they'd never be gone. 

Set aside in the large room's corner was Jon Arryn in his casket almost as though he'd been pushed out of sight and mind by Lysa, despite that though there were still many gathered by him paying their last respects. She spied her Uncle Edmure with his wife Roslin over by the buffet table looking ready to die of boredom, they had a son about the same age as Tristan and Sansa wondered if her Uncle played with his son like Petyr did with Tris,  _probably not_ said her mind. 

Suddenly her husband sighed deeply and clutched Sansa tighter breaking her out of her thoughts. 

“Yeah, I'm going to need whiskey for this.” His tone was absent-minded but Petyr never said or did anything without thought. 

“I'll get you a drink.” She told him dutifully. “The bar is only over there.” Sansa pointed off to the left. 

“You sure, Sweetling?” Asked Petyr. 

She was in an unknown place surrounded primarily by absolute strangers but Sansa refused to be that scared little girl changed to a bed, she was Sansa Baelish – Alayne Baelish to the world – wife of the most powerful and dangerous man in all of Westeros and she wouldn't let Joffrey, Duvall, Kaegan and Ramsay continue to dominate her life. The bar wasn't very far away so she'd remain in Petyr's sight at all times, that knowledge did wonders for her bravery and courage. 

Baelish stood there for a moment just watching his wife's backside in her black dress that hugged her curves, he knew that a good ten other men did as well and knowing that only he could have her made Sansa all the more attractive to him. Gods he wanted her – always did – and nothing could bring down his happy mood. 

“Petyr!”

Almost nothing. Lysa raced to his side and wrapped her arms around him in a vice-like grip, the horrid stench of her too floral perfume assaulted his nostrils and made him want to gag. His first reaction was to shove her as far from him as was physically possible and shoot her until he was sure she'd not be getting back up, Petyr was truly sick of being accosted by Lysa. However, Petyr just stood there and took it, he wanted Vale Limited and Lysa was the only way to get it, if he took over her late husband's company he'd have control of Lion and Stag's biggest rival; he'd truly dominate all. 

With hidden disgust his green-grey orbs glanced over her, the dress she wore was much too tight and far too short as well as entirely inappropriate for a wake, on Sansa the dress would have been sexy but on Lysa it was almost traumatising. 

“Hello Lysa.” He'd intended to sound suave and confident but it came out rough, her perfume was burning his throat. “I'm sorry for your loss.” 

Lysa only gripped him tighter. 

“Oh, you're so sweet and kind, Petyr. You always know how to make me feel better.”

She leaned in and kissed his lips, it was that moment he saw Sansa half way back to him with a glass of whiskey in one hand... she looked heartbroken. Instantly Petyr pushed the widow away – as delicately as possible though he'd have loved to have killed her - and quickly went to Sansa, he took the crystal tumbler and snaked an arm around Sansa's waist to pull her close. 

“Thank you, My Love.”

His darling wife was upset and calling her _Sweetling _ wasn't going to cut it, that was his pet name for her but _my love_ showed Sansa that she was where he kept his heart; Petyr needed her to know that. He pressed his lips to Sansa's and kissed her with love, as much as he could get into the kiss. When he broke the kiss – and that was only because he knew that if he let it go one any longer he'd take her over the bar – Petyr set down his glass on a nearby table and held his girl's hand tightly. 

“Lysa, this is my beautiful wife, Alayne. Sweetling, this is Lysa Arryn.” 

The widow tensed, she'd of course known Petyr had gotten married but she'd not expected someone who looked so much like Catelyn.  Anger surged through her.  The whore didn't deserve him! She wanted to launch at the slut and throttle her. Petyr cleared his throat. 

“Lysa, I'd be more than willing to help with any questions you may have regarding Vale Limited. Anything I can do to help.” Petyr flashed the widow one of his best fake smiles and Lysa quickly fell for it. 

“Thank you, Petyr. Always so good to me.” 

Much to the husband's and wife's pleasure Anya Waynwood grabbed her attention and allowed them to make an escape, this wasn't how he'd intended  for the evening to go, Petyr had intended to keep Sansa close and flash Lysa little smiles and glances that she'd believe meant far more than they really did, of course the crazy bitch had come alone and shot that all to shit. 

“Sweetling, are you alright?” He asked the second they were out of sight of Jon Arryn's widow. 

“Can we go home, Master?”

For about two and a half years she'd only called him  _Master_ when scared or they were having sex, this was different though, this was like when he'd first found her, this was the old Sansa, the one who was cracked and broken. 

“I love you.” He needed her to know that. “Always. And I'm sorry but not yet, soon though. I'm sorry about your Aunt, she's... _obsessed_ with me. I love you.” Petyr tucked a stray strand of flame red hair behind her ear before pressing his lips to hers once more, soft and pink against his own, his stubble scraped against her cheek in a way that had become comforting to Sansa. “I love you.” He whispered once more when they broke apart. 

“I love you too, Master.” 

He had to flirt with Lysa to get her company and he'd done much worse to get what he wanted in the past... _actually no, this is worse._ What man in his right mind would give up perfect and beautiful  Sansa, his  _wife,_ for the crazy known as Lysa Arryn? No one. 

They only stayed long enough to seem polite and for him to set the beginnings of his plot in motion, throughout the whole ordeal Petyr kept  an arm around her waist; a tether keeping her calm.  Sansa had been so pleased when Petyr finally made polite goodbyes and lead her out  to the Aston Martin, it was almost as though she could breathe again. 

A s soon as they got home Sansa shot straight upstairs to her room leaving Petyr to sigh and strip off his overcoat. In the living room he found Olyvar sat on the black leather couch with an open book in his hand  reading to Tris who was sat in his lap.

“Is Alyane alright?” He asked. 

“She's fine.” Said the CEO quickly. “Where is Poppy?” 

“She was tired so I put her down for the night about ten minutes ago.” There was a small pause. “You want me out, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

Easily Oly rose to his feet and handed young Tristan over to his father before setting the children's book down on the glass coffee table and  went to the purple vestibule to get his jacket, the click of the front door closing was the only indication that Oly had left. For a moment Petyr just stood there with Tris in his arms, as usual Sansa had dressed him to look just like Petyr; a dark shirt and little leather shoes though he wore khaki pants unlike his father. 

“Time for bed.” He told his son but the boy didn't look impressed. 

“Not tired, Daddy.”

“Tristan, what did I teach you about lying?” Asked Petyr as he turned to the stairs to make his way up to Tristan's bedroom. 

“Only when I can get away with it.” Responded the young boy softly. 

“That's my boy.” 

Tristan was indeed tired and was asleep almost as soon as Petyr had set him down in bed after changing him into his pyjamas.  Lady settled down with Tristan and  after checking on Poppy – who slept with her arms high above her head on the pillow – Petyr went to Sansa in their bedroom. 

“Sansa? Sweetling?” 

He sat down at the bottom of the huge bed, Sansa lay on her side with her back to him. When she said nothing he lay down and pulled her to his chest, arms tight around her.  Sometimes he forgot just how fragile Sansa could be, she often played her role of Alayne Baelish – brave and cunning with a sharp wit –  so well that the horrors and pain slipped his mind. 

“I love you, Sweetling. You know that. Your Aunt is deranged, always has been and for some reason she fixates on me.” There was a pause and still Sansa said nothing. He sighed. “Do you remember before Poppy was born? The day you came into my office at the club and found Lysa sat on me?” Slowly she nodded. “I told you then that she meant nothing to me and she never will. I have you, My Love, my beautiful and perfect you. I have two wonderful children, I'm CEO of Lion and Stag Enterprises, the most powerful company in Westeros. Hell, I even have Lady. I'd never give up all that for a crazy, worthless nutjob like her. I lie and I cheat and I con people but I've never lied to you, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Master. It's just-” Sansa cut herself off and a grin appeared on Petyr's lips. 

“You're jealous.” His tone wasn't teasing or judging but he just couldn't help his grin.

His girl had become possessive of him and it sent a spark of pleasure down his spine, Petyr's hand ran down her thigh dipping into the crevice where her legs met; Sansa's tension left her. 

“Forgive me?” 

“There's nothing to forgive.” She turned to face him and Petyr felt honoured to see those beautiful cerulean orbs of hers. His thumb stroked over her cheek as he looked at her. “I bet the children hate me, I just ignored them.” 

“No they don't.” Petyr told her assuredly. “Poppy is asleep and I just put Tristan to bed, Lady is with him.” 

His hands pulled her closer so her body was flat against his own, he pulled her into a kiss. He tasted like mint as always, his tongue licked along the seam of her lips begging entrance that she allowed easily, Petyr's tongue mapped out her mouth. Her arms reached up and tangled in his greying hair, her fingernails against his scalp sending a jolt of pleasure through his body and into his cock like a wave of electricity. A moan escaped her lips and she arched herself into his suit clad body cursing the layers between them. Petyr's firm hands drifted down to her hips holding her close and giving him the friction he needed as he pressed his erection against her before rolling onto his back so his girl straddled him. Another moan and he smiled, braking the kiss he lowered his head down to torment her neck. Sansa loved every single moment of his teeth nipping at her neck, he'd leave behind a bruise, one of love and passion rather than one of agony and hate that she'd felt for so much of her life. 

“Say it, Sweetling.” It was an order but nothing like the ones Joffrey and Ramsay had given her. 

The redhead knew exactly what he wanted to hear, it had always made his ego growl with animalistic pleasure. 

“Please, Master, I need you.” A growl was exactly what she got.

“Let's get you out of that dress.”

“I thought you liked this dress.” She teased with mock annoyance.

“Oh I do, Sweetling. However, I like it even better off you.” 

He grinned devilishly and pulled down the tiny zip then quickly flipped them so he could pull the fabric down and cast it to the floor.

While Petyr had his wife practically screaming with ecstasy their children and Lady slept soundly. The day certainly hadn't gone how Petyr had hoped but it ended with his children safe and him buried inside the woman he loved so it wasn't all bad. 


	5. Petyr And Pop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short, the next one will be back to normal length.

A few days had gone by and no news had come out about Cersei being discovered however, his connections in the KLPD had informed Petyr that Doctor Von Voltaire had ordered ground penetrating radar  so it was only a matter of time until police found her body. He kept a close eye on that problem while dealing with his plot to take over  Vale Limited. Now Jon was dead it meant that Lysa took over until her son was old enough to run thinks himself. 

S ansa hated the idea of Petyr spending so much time with Lysa, not only because she knew the older woman would openly flirt and cling to  _ her  _ husband but she also worried that her Aunt would recognise her even after more than a decade.  All those thoughts and concerns flew around her brain as she sat on the deck steps with the sun shining down on her, eyes watching Petyr run around the huge fence-less yard with their son and daughter. Lady bounced around with them and barked every now and again. Petyr spent a lot of time behind a desk plotting and moving money around but since having Poppy he'd made time to play with the kids, Poppy was a Daddy's girl and often found herself being spoilt. He was a different man around his family, loving, caring, protective and kind and Sansa loved him with all her heart for that.  Over the years the Baelish siblings had of course noticed that their father carried a gun in a shoulder holster under his suit jacket, Tristan had reached for it once and Petyr had nearly had a heart attack, since then he'd bought them water guns. Sansa had questioned him at first but he'd argued that it gave them something to play with distracting them from his and also ensured they weren't afraid of them. When they were old enough he planned to teach his children to protect themselves just as he had with Sansa. 

The  siblings charged around trying to soak their Daddy while giggling their heads off. Very,  _ very  _ few people ever got to see Petyr's fun loving side and Sansa felt privileged to witness it. He was her Master, her saviour, her husband and the father of her beloved children and she loved him. Poppy's red hair glowed in the sunlight and Tristan's skin was the color of snow, wind danced through trees  and the salty scent of the sea blew off the ocean up the nearby cliffs and up to caress Sansa's lungs. 

Sansa wasn't stupid she knew Petyr wanted everything and now that he had Lion and Stag,  Vale Limited was the only competition left, the only real competition anyway.  Once he had Jon Arryn's company not only would he have the most powerful company in Westeros but also destroyed the biggest threat. There was also the added boon that taking everything from Lysa would crush her, and in his mind if Lysa had helped Cat when she'd asked for help all those years ago Sansa's siblings wouldn't have died horribly and Sansa wouldn't have suffered at the hands of Joffrey Baratheon.  The beautiful redhead couldn't just sit there all day though, with a smile she rose to her feet and headed into the house to make the kids  some lunch. 

 

X XXX FLASHBACKXXXX

 

_ A  f ifteen year old Petyr sat in the library of Hoster Tully's beach house  when a young boy with dark hair entered the room, he was only a little taller than Petyr and the same age;  only three months  separated them . The boy of course had a real name but since meeting Petyr ten years previous had become known only as 'Pop' thanks to the fact he constantly had a lollipop. Petyr hadn't ever really wanted  nor needed friends but Pop had worked his way into the older boy's life, both were cunning and didn't particularly like people so it had almost made sense for them to befriend one another.  _

“ _ How did I know I'd find you here?” Said Pop as he leaned against a bookshelf  and folded his arms.  _

“ _Maybe because you've known me for a decade and have acknowledged my enjoyment of reading.” Petyr responded without even looking up from his book. _

“ _Oh ha ha, and stop sounding like you're forty.”_ _ Pop pushed himself off the heavy bookshelf and pulled the book from Petyr's hand. “Come on. Hoster Tully let you bring a friend on vacation and there's no way in hell I'm going to spend it inside with you.”  _

“ _ I don't feel like socializing much today, Pop.”  _

_ A bout eight months ago Petyr had gotten into a fight with Brandon Stark – the new boyfriend of Catelyn Tully – and had ended up with a pretty serious laceration from navel to collarbone, Pop's best friend had changed after that, grown darker  and attempted to cut himself off but Pop wouldn't let him. Petyr would never admit it but he cared about Pop and as his best friend Pop was determined to return that.  He tossed the book down and pulled Petyr up by his arm, he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer.  _

“ _Come on.” He said again. “You can carry on your dastardly plots out on the beach.”_

“ _Lysa will be out there no doubt.” _

_ Pop tugged him out the library and off down the long hall  towards the back door and out onto the beach.  _

“ _She hates me, as long as I'm with you she'll leave you alone.”_

_ The sun shined harshly leaving the sand hot and Petyr was quick to pull off his shirt, he tucked it into his belt while Pop followed suit. Petyr's scar had faded  surprising quickly but there was no mistaking it was there and always would be,  he leaned back against the rock and listened to the seagulls and waves crash against the shore; the sound of the ocean had always comforted him and he knew that was probably the real reason Pop had dragged him outside. The taller boy helped himself to little shells dusting sand from them while the sound of Cat, Edmure and Lysa played up on the ridge.  _

_ F or a while Petyr and Pop talked about unimportant things, both of them rested against the large craggy rocks  that reminded them too much of the Fingers .  After a while Pop had shuffled close to Petyr until he was close enough to press little kisses to his friends neck. Pop had always felt for Petyr, ever since they'd first met and Petyr just let him. Pop knew Petyr didn't love him, he was still in love with Cat,  but Petyr had never made a single attempt to stop his friend. Maybe he was curious or possibly bisexual, maybe he only allowed it because he knew it made the taller boy happy, Pop didn't quite know and he had no intention of questioning it. Little did Pop know that all three were correct. Petyr knew his friend suffered greatly at the hands of his father for being gay, never got to be who he really was, Petyr was also curious and though in love with Catelyn Tully believed that gender was irrelevant, it wasn't just s at ing an itch but a means to an end.  In all honesty, men, women, Petyr didn't much care; not that he was going to run around telling people that.  There was also another reason for his little public display with Pop, Lysa could see them from up on the ridge and had a face like thunder, all that jealously looked ready to burst forth and Petyr found it deeply amusing. 'Well, if she thinks I'm gay she might leave me alone.'  Out of curiosity to see if Lysa would indeed blow up he tilted Pop's chin up with a single finger and kissed the dark-haired boy.  No such luck, she just stormed off  into the large beach  side house. _

“ _ Will you stop being so vulgar, we're on a public beach.” Announced Cat suddenly, neither boy had heard her approach,  Edmure wasn't five steps behind her.  _

_ Cat was still angry with Petyr for the fight with her beloved Brandon, she'd always loved Petyr like a little brother and had begged for her boyfriend not to kill him. She'd never love him the way he wanted her to and after seeing the way Pop had devoted even more time to Petyr since his injury she suspected he'd soon get over her.  _

“ _ It's disgusting, Petyr.” Said Edmure quickly from his big sister's side. “Father let him come because he felt sorry for him, not so you could make out.”  _

_ Cat flashed her brother a glare that shut him up pretty quickly  before ushering him off in the direction Lysa had gone not a minute earlier. _

_Petyr loved that stunning redhead – or at least his teenage mind thought he did – but sometime he wondered if he'd be better off being gay, things would have been less complicated with Pop. He wasn't going to fall out of love with her any time soon though, Cupid had a firm grip on him._

 

XXXX

 

Doctor Von Voltaire had been on his knees – and not in a good way – for almost three hours going over the bodies that were still being discovered in Dwellers Hollow, he could find no discernible link between any of them save for the fact they were all dead and buried in the same place. Heyerdahl had been now his neck about it all day and frankly all Jefferson wanted to do was kill the older man, Seb had talked him out of that. _Damn that cunning man of mine._ Afternoon had just given way to early evening and Jefferson only knew one thing for certain, he needed a bloody drink. Thoughts for that drink were soon squashed though when one of the radar experts called him over urgently.

She stood by a large oak tree biting her thumb as another from her team marked yet another grave with a little flag. This one was off-set from the others but still matched up with the rows, it was also a couple of feet deeper than the rest, they'd nearly overlooked it.

Half an hour later and the body had been exhumed from the dark soil and set on a blue tarp for Von Voltaire to examine, of course no autopsy would be carried out until he had all the bodies back at his lab but often the first look provided the most clues. He had a lot of work ahead of him, and he didn't just mean the autopsies. 

Sebastian had gone back to the station a good hour ago to start filling in the mountain of forms required for a case where the bodies just didn't seem to stop. Two-hundred-and- ninety-three was his count so far if he included the latest corpse before him, he'd have to call in a second or maybe even third Pathologist just to get through them all before winter came. 

The Gothic joker quickly established that this new body was a female around forty years old and hadn't been there more than five years, half of the bodies they'd found had fully decomposed to skeletons so they'd been there a good eight to twelve years if not longer and a good proportion of the rest were nearing skeletonization. Insects  ******** had eaten much of her flesh and there were very old blood stains around what was left of her ears and upper lip where active decay had begun a few years previous.  It didn't take an expert to work out this was the last victim or that she'd been shot one in the head and twice in the heart; this woman had been executed. Whoever had killed her wanted to be certain she'd never come back and they'd sure she wouldn't. 

When it got too dark to work even with large powerful lights the teams packed up and left for the night, but Jefferson's work wasn't done, he had to go back to the Medical Examiner’s office and set to work on autopsies; Voltaire was going to have one hell of an overtime bonus.

His mortuary was large and painted in an off-white that he'd never much cared for, the fridges lined the wall opposite the main door and filled the room with a quiet hum than he'd long since become deaf to. There were four tables each with a victims atop the silver metal in their body bag waiting for him to set to work and the doctor couldn't refuse them for long.


	6. The Lysa Arryn Conference

Petyr's meeting with Lysa regarding the future running of  Vale Limited had been scheduled for noon sharp and of course Petyr was early, not because he wanted to see his wife's aunt but because he had a reputation of being unpredictable to keep.  Petyr had woken up with Sansa curled up to his chest all safe and warm but he'd soon been forced to leave her and make his way into the financial district of King's Landing after checking on his daughter and son, Petyr had always been the first one up.  All that had been five house ago, since then he'd been to Lion and Stag to deal with the pile of paperwork on his desk and then driven to Vale Limited and strutted inside to the reception desk. Petyr set his briefcase down before speaking to the mildly attractive brunette behind the dark desk.

“Petyr Baelish. I'm here to see Lysa-” The receptionist cut him off much to his annoyance. 

“Yes, she's expecting you, Mister Baelish. Missus Arryn is waiting for you on the top floor in Mister Arryn's office. You can go straight up if you'd like.” 

No, no he wouldn't like to _go straight up_ he wanted to go home to Sansa and teach his children to dominate the world, but he was determined to get his hands on Vale Limited. He went up in the elevator knowing that as soon as Lysa came near him he'd reek of her horrendous perfume, no doubt he'd make sure to bin his suit, thank God he'd not worn on of his favourites. There was a quiet ping before the silver doors rolled open and Petyr stepped out quickly intent on going directly to Jon's – Lysa's – office, he'd been there enough time to know his way around the thirty-five floor building pretty well. _My building's bigger_ muttered his ego.

There was a young blonde man sat at the assistant's desk outside Lysa's office, couldn't have been more than twenty-five and Petyr knew that he'd had been hired since Jon's death. Jakob Carsyn had been Jon's assistant for almost ten years and the blonde certainly wasn't Jakob Carsyn;  _she's always liked the pretty ones._

Half way across the room  Yohn Royce – Vale Limited's CFO – blocked his path. 

“What brings you here, Baelish?” The older man asked. “You're building is a block over.” 

“I know. It's the big one in the middle of the financial district that's taller than all the others, but thanks reminding me.”

“Petyr!”

Baelish cringed when he heard Lysa's overly happy voice and wanted to floor to open up and swallow him whole, no such luck. She stood in the doorway of her late husband's office and had quickly attracted the attention of just about everyone on the whole floor. 

“Good luck.” Grumbled Royce under his breath before going back to his office.

As soon as he stepped through the threshold Lysa slammed the door shut and threw herself at him. 

“Oh Petyr, I'm so glad you're here.” 

The repugnant woman gripped him tight and the overpowering stench of her much too floral perfume almost had him gagging, whatever she was wearing burnt his eyes like acid. He much preferred Sansa's perfume, it was a soft sweet fragrance of jasmine that only added to her natural scent. Frankly Petyr needed some painkillers because Lysa had given him a headache, add the fact that Lysa had locked them behind closed doors rather than a much preferred conference room and it was fairly evident that Baelish wasn't having a good day. 

She clung to him tighter as though he were the only sturdy tree in a flood, Petyr's initial reaction had been to push her away and bleach every exposed patch of his skin – though he doubted that would actually get rid of her perfume – but he restrained himself. When her infatuation had first started all those years ago Littlefinger had actually been a little flattered but it had died off very,  _very_ quickly as her little crush had turned to obsession, he couldn't stand in a room for more than thirty seconds before she was by his side hanging off him like a virus. As a teenager it had some days been so bad that he'd wished Hoster Tully hadn't ever taken him in, however, if he hadn't Petyr wouldn't have had anything and Pop wouldn't have had a safe haven away from his father. That was all in the past though. 

“I'm so glad you're here.” She told him again. “You being here makes everything all better.”

Petyr fought off the urge to crawl out of his skin like a snake and pull a skedaddle, instead he managed to calmly disentangle himself from the crazy bitch known as Lysa Arryn and sat himself down at the small meeting table by the window. The office wasn't god awful – Lysa hadn't got her idea of taste anywhere near it yet – but Baelish much preferred his own office back at Lion and Stag, he could see the ocean from there instead of grey buildings and Sansa was only an office door away. He did however, like the older Jackson Pollock hanging behind the desk,  _maybe I'll move it to the main conference room at Lion and Stag, this whole place will be mine soon enough anyway._ He opened up his briefcase and gestured for Lysa to sit, she watched eagerly as he took out a notepad and pen; he liked to keep things old school. 

“You've only just gained this company but of course it will be Robin's-” Lysa interrupted. 

“My sweet boy.”

“Indeed. As I said at the wake, I'm more than willing to help you with the company and learning how to run it efficiently. I know you already have Jon's board of executives but they're focused on the company and it's profits not teaching you to be a good CEO until Robin comes of age.” 

“Jon never thought I could!” She growled and grabbed hold of Petyr's hand as though they belonged to her. “But you,” she grinned. “you see I can do anything, you've always believed in me Petyr.” 

_I've believed you're fucking crazy,_ muttered his mind.

“Of course, Lysa.” He smiled back at her but it didn't reach his eyes like the smiles he gave Sansa and his mini world dictators. 

Petyr had been after Vale Limited for years and only now Jon Arryn was gone did he actually stand a chance at absorbing it into Lion and Stag, all Petyr had to do was play nice and flirt until he could rip it out from under her. 

“First things first, you'll need to show your strength. We don't want anyone trying to cast you aside from your own company, we should take a look at the executives and find out who isn't pulling their weight. Finding them and getting rid will jolt the others into making their work more productive.”

“So wise.” She all but sang.

_ This is going to be too easy.  _

 

~X~

 

Sansa knew Petyr wanted Vale Limited, had done even before he'd found her chained under Joffrey's bed.  She was also fully aware that he didn't want to spend so much time with her Aunt Lysa but it still upset her.  Sansa still suffered from the fear that her life with Petyr was a cruel dream and one say she'd wake up to find Joffrey and Ramsay still lived and wanted nothing more than her pain, the thought that her children would never have existed hurt the most. The redhead believed in her husband though, always had and always would, she was the only one he ever told the truth to.

A knock at the front door jolted Sansa from her thoughts and back to the world around her, Tristan and Poppy played on the floor while Lady snoozed in her dog bed beside the large L shaped leather couch; everything was alright.  She took a deep breath to steady herself then rose from her place on the floor beside her children and went to answer the door, she remembered the first time she'd seen the huge vestibule with its winding staircase and dark purple walls and large mockingbird sculpture on a table in the middle of the circular room, it had amazed her then and in all honesty Sansa still couldn't quite believe she lived here. 

The door opened and Sansa found a young woman with blonde hair holding a huge glass vase of flowers, the girl grinned.

“Hello there, I have a delivery for a Missus Alayne Baelish.” 

“That's me.” Sansa still wasn't comfortable talking to people, especially without Petyr, but she'd learnt to appear pleasant and confident. 

“Great! Could you just sign here?”

Suddenly a notepad with a delivery address and time marked down in blue ink was shoved towards the redhead along with a pen and Sansa quickly scrawled the signature of Alayne Baelish like she had so many times before. 

“Thanks, here you go. Have a nice day, Missus Baelish.” With that the young blonde woman turned and went back to her car. 

Carefully Sansa took the vase into the house and set it down on the kitchen island away from the kids who still played on the floor. The arrangement was substantially large and made up of nothing but red roses – and a little few sprigs of hard Ruscus – Sansa didn't know how many roses were in the bouquet but she'd lost count at thirty-eight and she'd not even been half way through. Neatly sat in the top was a small envelope that she pulled free, instantly she recognised Petyr's handwriting when she opened it up. 

_For my Sweetling, I love you. X_

_P._

 

Sansa beamed, he knew he'd upset her at Jon Arryn's wake and just like Petyr he'd made it all better. Of course Petyr loved her, she knew she didn't have to worry about her aunt but it was still nice to have the gesture. Her heart swelled and all she wanted in that moment was to kiss the man she loved. 

Suddenly another knock came at the door and Sansa wondered if he'd gone over the top, she didn't need him to shower her with riches. The door opened once more and the redhead raised an eyebrow when she was met with the same blonde woman that had handed her the roses. 

“Sorry, I completely forgot about these.”

She held out a single flower wrapped in clear cellophane with a big red bow and a small box wrapped on blue. Sansa chuckled when she saw the flower, a poppy,  _no mistaking who that's for then._

“Thank you.”

Once more the front door closed and Sansa went back to her children and sat cross-legged on the floor, unsurprisingly the woman at the door hadn't woken up Lady. 

“Poppy, someone got you a present.” She handed Poppy the stem of her namesake and pointed to the little card attached to the bow, with a little help from Mommy she got it open. “What does that say huh?”

“Daddy!” The girl beamed

“Yeah, that's right, it's from Daddy. It says 'A poppy for my Poppy. Daddy loves you'.” Poppy continued to beam and with surprising care for a three year old propped it up against one of her cuddly toys; a panda that went just about everywhere with her. “Come here Tristan. Let's see what Daddy got for you.” 

The dark-haired boy pushed himself up and padded over to Sansa where he sat in her lap and took the blue present. Sansa found herself curious as to what was inside since Tristan wasn't one for flowers, Tristan ripped the paper away with enthusiasm and let out a giggle when he found a toy fire engine underneath the blue paper.  _Of course,_ thought Sansa. Tristan had been begging for the fire engine since he'd first seen it advertised. The fire engine was rather large and quite clearly expensive but Sansa wasn't surprised, the children of Petyr Baelish wanted for nothing, sometime she did worry that he spoilt them though. 

“Can I play outside?” Asked the little boy with a smile, eager to play with his new toy.

“Sure, let's put your shoes on first.” Said Sansa as she stood him up and then lifted Poppy into her arms. “We'll all go out.” 

The day was nice enough and Petyr's little gifts had brought a smile to her face. 

 

~X~

 

Petyr had almost lost the will to live sat in a now dead John Arryn's office with Lysa, he'd been there an hour and couldn't take much more. Every time he got on to the subject of the company and started getting towards the information he needed Lysa back tracked and started on about some crap and how much they cared for one another. He was starting to wonder if she'd actually seen Sansa at the wake. Sansa: his wife, beautiful, kind, caring, brave, smart, dangerous, cunning and most importantly the mother of his children. Lysa: annoying, crazy, mistook obsession for love, had no sense of fashion, creeped the hell out of him, had a drug problem and oh yes, Petyr hated her.  _ How would anyone choose Lysa over my sweet Sansa?  _ _ They'd have to be blind, deaf and well paid.  _

Suddenly Lysa rose to her feet and Petyr raised an eyebrow, two when she sat down in his lap and threw her arms around his neck, Gods he wanted to push her off something, a roof maybe. The aged redhead snuggled into his suit and that was the moment Petyr was certain it was another one for the scrap heap; she kissed his neck. 

“You smell so good.” Lysa purred into his chest and Baelish did his best not to throw up or hang himself. 

He'd hoped he could get at Vale Limited through cunning and his raw intellect but Lysa was just too obsessed for any of it to get through. Petyr hadn't thought it possible to love Sansa more than he already did but Lysa kissing him was doing it. 

“Jon's gone now.” She muttered as kisses continued to sicken him. “He's gone and we can be together.” 

_Wait, what?_ Baelish's mind ground to a halt for a moment or two. Did she honestly thing-?  _Oh, hell no!_ He needed to slow her down and try to get a handle on the situation, put a pin in the conversation to see if it was something he could later exploit.

“I'm married, Lysa.” He told her with fake sorrow. “And people would be too suspicious so soon after Jon's death.”

“I don't care!”

“I know, but it could hurt both our companies, Vale Limited in Robin's future.” _Yes, play the child angle that'll work._

“I don't want  to be patient any longer, Petyr. Father made me marry Jon, I was forced, but that's all over now. It's just you and me.” 

_And my immense hatred of you,_ added Petyr's mind. He put on his best charismatic smile softly tucked a strand of hair behind her eat. 

“You're right, you shouldn't have to wait but please, for me? Your husband is gone but my wife is still an issue, she's also my VP. If you're patient for me I'll owe you so much, Lysa.” 

“Okay.” Lysa relented, but she pulled Petyr closer. “For you, but I don't like it.” 

“Thank you, we can talk more about that later. Now, I need to help you run this company.”

Lysa grinned at him as though he were her guardian angel completely unaware that Petyr was pushing her back to her own seat away from him.

“You're so good to me, Petyr.” Lysa grinned stupidly. 

He didn't respond to that, just carried on with what he'd gone there to say.

“You need to show you're strong, Lysa. The executives knew what Jon was capable of, show them you're strong enough to replace him. The next six months will be rough but with my help you'll be unstoppable. And when Robin is old enough to take over, I'll be right there to help him too.” _Yes, right on out the door and off to the nearest McDonalds for a job application._

“Oh Petyr, just think-” She beamed in that crazy way of hers. “soon we'll have the two most powerful companies in Westeros and be united.” 

She sounded so excited and Petyr couldn't wait to burst that bubble.  Lion and Stag and Vale Limited would be united but it would be under his control and Sansa would be his queen,  _not_ Lysa. 

“That little whore you're married to will be gone and we can be happy.” 

It took all Petyr strength not to launch over the table and beat her to death,  Lysa could say whatever the hell she wanted about him, he'd let it all roll off of him but his darling Sansa was another story. She was perfect and his.  He'd expected Lysa to be more suspicious of him since Sansa was younger and far more beautiful but her want and stupidity had blinded her, Petyr had hardly had to even try, Lysa had convinced herself of Petyr's love for her. 

Sansa was his Queen, not Lysa, never Lysa. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please support your local florists rather than supermarkets, the flower is better quality. Alright, little rant over, thanks for reading!


	7. Conditions

Sansa sat in her office with the kids playing quietly over by the large window with Lady on the couch while Sansa watched them from behind her desk. Petyr had ordered his rarely used driver to pick her and the children up and take them to Lion and Stag, both of them liked to have at least one of them in the office every day – usually Petyr – but Sansa hadn't been around for a while and it had been mutually decided that she needed to make an appearance. 

Suddenly her office door was kicked open and she was instantly back underneath Joffrey's bed, the heavy leather collar around her neck keeping her there bound while she prayed he would just pass out for the night. Everything was black, only the sound of her heart beat thudding in her chest, she couldn't breath, could think... and then Lady nuzzled into her leg; she growled slightly at the newcomer.

Steadily the darkness faded away and Sansa remembered she was safe, Joffrey was dead, Petyr had made sure of that, her children were happy and close. With a deep breath she glanced up to see Athelstan Creed, his face red and angry but Sansa's hearing only seemed to turn back on half way through his rant. 

“... You can't fucking fire me! I'm CTO not some low-level fucking twat. I'm not taking this from Varys, Baelish can tell me him-fucking-self or you can all fuck off, I'll not be fired for no reason.” 

Poppy was crying, the loud screaming had scared her and Tristan had pulled his sister close; he was so protective of her. 

“ Get out!” Yelled the little boy as Lady marched over them to do her guard dog bit. 

That got to Sansa, she wasn't that scared little girl any longer, she wasn't a slave, she was Sansa Baelish the wife of the most powerful man in Westeros, mother of his children. Sansa was strong, she was powerful, and as Vice President she wasn't going to take crap from Athelstan Creed of all people. The redhead channelled her inner Petyr and took a deep breath then shot to her feet. 

“Creed, I don't care who you are or where you came from. You may have been good enough for Tywin Lannister but you're certainly not good enough for Petyr and Alayne Baelish. You're not being 'fired for no reason', it's because  _ you  _ left our system open with a big neon sign saying  _ install honeypot here _ ! Now, you heard my son, get out. Pack up your office and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out because I don't want ass prints on my door.” 

She hoped Althelstan left soon because her confidence had started to fade. It was then she heard snickering and realised the door was still open, she could just see Varys, Gwendolyn and her own assistant, Lenore, in the doorway. Varys wasn't actually laughing but there was that amused glint in his eyes. Creed didn't move, just stood there while Tristan soothed his sister's tears, stood there in shock. This man had made her daughter cry and that knowledge refilled her confidence. 

“Don't make me call Sandor.” She growled.

At that Creed finally stormed off, he shoved  past Varys and the two assistants. Finally Sansa's confidence faded away completely and she raced to her children, Tristan had calmed Poppy to the point her tears had stopped but she was still visibly upset. The redhead wrapped her arms around her son and daughter and pressed a kiss to Poppy's head she vaguely registered Varys talking. 

“Gwendolyn, would you please have Mister Clegane called anyway?” Petyr's assistant nodded. “Thank you.” 

With  that the CHRO made his way into Sansa's office as the two assistants disbursed and closed the door. Varys always carried a calming aura, he seemed to be able to sooth anyone and Sansa was actually thankful for his presence in that moment. 

“I'm sorry about that, Alayne.” He began slowly. “Baelish asked me to fire him since he's in a meeting and Athelstan didn't take it too well. When he remembered our beloved CEO isn't here he decided kicking down your door would be a good idea. That's the second firing this week and both have blown up.” 

“It's alright, Varys.” She told him after a moment once she was sure Poppy and Tristan were alright. “Would you mind asking Lenore to get me some tea, please?” 

“Of course.” The bald man nodded slightly. “Again, I apologise for the intrusion and hope the children are alright.”

With that he left Sansa's office and quiet descended again. The redhead sat there a moment with her son and daughter before she pulled Poppy onto her knee and Tristan closer. 

“Mommy's sorry.

“Don't like man.” Grumbled Poppy into her mother's chest.

“No one does, Sweetheart. That's why Daddy had Varys get rid of him. Are you two alright?” 

“Yes, Mommy.” Said Tristan as he offered Copper – Sansa's toy cat that had over the years become Tristan's – to his little sister. “Love you.”

“I love you both too. Very much.”

Sansa pressed a little kiss to Tristan's forehead, they were such caring children when it came to one another and their parents but she and Petyr had seen them at play dates; they were all their father underneath. 

“Want Daddy!” Poppy suddenly demanded with a shake of her little fists, Sansa wasn't surprised since Poppy was a Daddy's girl. 

“I know, Angel, I do too. He should be back soon, Daddy is dealing with your Great Aunt Lysa.” This time both Poppy and her big brother grumbled. “He's making your favourite for dinner though.” 

It was beef Quinoa rissoles, but the kids didn't know that, they just thought it looked like a cool bun-less beef burger; Sansa and Petyr had decided it didn't matter as long as the kids ate without complaints. Actually, when Sansa thought about it, Tristan nor Poppy had ever turned their noses up at something Petyr had made them, if it was because he was a good cook or because they knew it wasn't wise to refuse Petyr Baelish she didn't know. 

Poppy and Tristan snuggled into their mother while Lady settled down beside them after a while, Sansa just held them close. Creed was gone, Sansa had been brave, her children were safe. 

 

XXXX

 

Petyr was driving back to Lion and Stag when his cellphone rang, a quick glance down to where it sat in the mount revealed it to be Gwendolyn. Petyr sighed and rolled the window down further so he could toss his cigarette butt out and then answered. 

“Yes, Gwendolyn?”

“Hello, Sir, I just thought you'd like to know that Mister Creed has been fired. Mister Clegane walked him out a few minutes ago... after he stormed into your wife's office.” Petyr tensed. “He nearly kicked the door of its hinges, Sir, and yelled at her while your children were with her.” 

“Is she alright? Poppy and Tristan?” There was unmistakable anger in his tone and had it been a video call he'd have seen Gwendolyn flinch.

“Yes, Sir. Missus Baelish handled him quite well and basically handed him his ass.” 

Petyr smirked at that. “That's my girl.” He mused aloud before he remembered Gwendolyn was still on the line. “Have the CTO office cleaned before Lothor Brune moves in. God only knows what Athelstan's been doing in there.” 

Lothor Brune was a man of similar age to Baelish and though not conventionally handsome he certainly wasn't ugly. The two men had known one another for years and Petyr had found him to be a very loyal and naturally tight-lipped man; of course Petyr approved of that. He'd wanted to bring Lothor in years ago but Tywin had always shut him down, yet Tywin was gone now and Petyr could do as he damn well pleased. 

“Yes Sir.” A pause. “Oh, Lenore says Missus Baelish has just requested a car to take her and the children home.” 

That didn't surprise Petyr in the slightest. “Alright. I'll be back at the office within the hour.” 

“Very good, Sir.”

With that Gwendolyn hung up and Petyr returned to his music. Birds squawked up high above but fortunately the song drown them out.

 

 _Well you hate the way I shuffle_  
But you love the way I deal  
You don't mind if I borrow  
But you'd rather watch me steal  
You take what you've forgiven  
And you put it in a drug  
In case you need it later  
Just to even up the score  
  
Oh, oh, how did we get in to this mess?  
Oh, I know, gotta get you out  
Out of that little black dress.

 

After his meeting with Lysa all he wanted to do was brush his teeth, shower, down a glass of bourbon and pound Sansa into the nearest available surface; in that order. The man with ash at his temples wanted to go home to his wife and kids but he couldn't, Petyr had far too much work to do if he wanted to take Vale Limited out from under Lysa's feet. 

It ended up being nine-thirty by the time he got home, relatively early for him in the grand scheme of things but very late to Tristan and Poppy who had already gone to bed; they'd no doubt hate him in the morning.

Petyr didn't say a single word to Sansa as he entered the kitchen and poured himself a cut crystal tumbled of bourbon – something he'd craved all day – and downed it in one go. Sansa signed, it was a clear sign that her husband was agitated. Once he was done Petyr slammed the glass down and pulled the redhead into his arms and kissed her forcefully, almost as though it were desperation; his grip on her was tight. 

“Are you alright, Master?” Asked Sansa, she knew the title would calm him down, soothe him. 

“Yes, Sweetling.” Petyr nodded and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her right ear. “I'm fine.”

“Please don't lie to me, what's wrong?”

Baelish sighed and pulled his wife close, he couldn't resist resting his chin atop her head. 

“I saw your Aunt Lysa today-” 

“I know,” she interrupted “you stink of her.”

“I'm sorry, my love.” He truly was, he hated smelling like her, he finally pulled back from his young wife and rubbed large hands over his face. “She's gone off the deep end, Sansa. Robin isn't enough incentive to push her anymore, she wants-” Petyr cut himself off with a sigh.

“You.” She finished for him and her face dropped.

“Yes, Sweetling, but I'm yours so she can't have me, can she?” 

Petyr had lied and cheated his way through life but not with Sansa, he'd never lied to her. She was his wife, the one person he cared about more than power – save for his children of course – he'd not lie to her. There was a pause where Petyr thought Sansa would cry but he should have known his girl was braver than that. 

“How badly do you want that company and what does it mean if we don't have it?” She cuddled into his chest as she spoke.

“Very badly. I've been after that company since Lysa married Jon Arryn. And if we don't have Vale Limited then it means we have a gargantuan rival on our doorstep. On her own Lysa would run the place into the ground but Royce and the other executives actually know what they're doing. As long as they exist under their own power they'll be a threat. Vale Limited has always been cocky and from a legal standpoint they're unpredictable, if they really decide to push there might not be anything Lion and Stag can do to stand up to it.” 

Sansa nodded. “Then take it.” 

Petyr raised an eyebrow as his eyes shot down to his beautiful wife. 

“Sweetling.”

“Playing along with what Lysa wants is the only way to get it?” Petyr nodded. “Then play along and take the company.” 

Suddenly she grabbed hold of his chin and pulled him down to look her in the eye, eye contact wasn't nearly as unheard of as it had been before Poppy had been born but it was still rare. Her grip on him actually hurt a little, it was one of the few and very far between moments of dominance that Sansa had locked up inside her; it made him want to bend her over couch and take her there and then.

“There are conditions.”

“Anything, my love.” She loved it when Petyr called her that. 

It was true, he'd long believed no woman was worth dying for, killing for, but not dying for. Sansa had him rethinking that, she was worth dying for. He'd do anything for her and their children. 

“You don't kiss me until you've washed her out of your mouth... _ever_.” He nodded, he always did that anyway, hence the bourbon he'd downed. “You never tell her you love her, I know those words would be a lie but still you don't tell her. You don't fuck her, and she goes _nowhere_ near Tristan or Poppy.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,  Sweetling. Are you sure you're alright with this?” He enquired softly as his hands ran through her long red hair. 

Sansa nodded and leant into his touch. “You killed and destroyed the Lannisters because of what they did to me and my family. My mother asked Lysa to take care of me and my siblings because she knew something was wrong, I remember that, it's faint but it's there. Lysa refused. She's practically responsible for my brothers, sister and cousin dying. So, I want you to make her happy and then I want you to take it all away from her.” 

Petyr beamed. “You want me to crush her? Oh, Sweetling, you are perfect. My dark, depraved, perfect Sansa.” 

He pulled Sansa to him and kissed her once more, his large hands trailed down to cup her backside and then he lifted her into his arms only to press her against the nearest wall. Petyr struggled to think of a more perfect creature. Sometimes Baelish wondered who possessed the real power in their relationship; him or her. Sansa could make him do just about anything without even asking, he'd taught her well, maybe a little too well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are Little Black Dress by Jace Everett, who, just fyi, is the nicest man I have ever met. Really goes out of his way for his fans.


	8. The Private Lives Of Cops

Petyr strutted into Vale Limited as though he owned the place because... well, he soon would. In his hand he held a small pink paper bag from a bakery and sandwich shop not too far from his club, Baelish flashed Royce a smile as he walked straight past him uncaring as to the older man's annoyance and into the late Jon Arryn's office. Inside he found Lysa staring out the window seemingly at nothing but she surged with happiness, Lysa spun around and beamed at him with that psychotic smile of hers. It took everything Petyr had not to recoil. 

“Petyr!” The redhead launched at him and snuggled deep into Petyr's chest, how he longed for it to be Sansa in his arms. “What are you doing here?” 

Baelish grinned, not like the real ones he showed Sansa or his children, no, Lysa didn't deserve one of those, the grin he gave her was fake and disarming. 

“Well, you're just been bereaved so I thought some cheering up was in order. I brought lunch.”

Lysa took the bag. “You're so thoughtful and wonderful, Petyr. So good to me.” 

In truth bringing lunch had been Sansa's idea, Gods he loved his depraved angel and her clever little ideas. When he'd first found her Sansa had been scared of her own shadow but now, after the Lannisters and two children Sansa was just as cunning as he was. 

“Won't your wife wonder where you are?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Who cares.” Petyr huffed as though he didn't love his darling wife, even he struggled to tell that lie. “Besides, I told her I was going to a meeting and we are in your office.” 

Lysa chuckled. “Loophole, I like it.” 

“Well, I am crafty.”

Meanwhile across the city at Petyr's club was Sansa and the children, Tristan and Poppy played on the dark couch with their toys and Lady while Sansa drew up the new rota for the new staff. Petyr usually did that job – it was his club – but her husband was busy conning Lysa and had started teaching Sansa about business when she'd become VP of Lion and Stag. Petyr had taken the redhead from nothing, just fear and pain and turned her into a strong young woman. That just made her love him all the more. She didn't want to think about Petyr and the fact he was with Lysa, letting her put her bony fingers on  _her_ husband. Still, Petyr really wanted Vale Limited and Sansa wanted her aunt to have her whole world ripped out from under her like Sansa and her family had. Maybe Petyr had taught his wife a little too well. 

Suddenly the door crashed open ending the silence and Katrina marched in with a glare. The Baelish children jumped but ignored Katrina's yelling, after Athelstan Creed's stunt days earlier they'd almost grown used to it... Sansa didn't know how to feel about that. 

“What the hell?! You can't fire me! Who do you think you are?!”

Frankly Sansa had used up her weeks quota of confidence but she forced herself to resist the memories of Joffrey and Ramsay. 

“Quiet!” That shut Katrina up because she'd certainly not expected the boss' softly spoken and quiet wife to growl. “You don't yell in front of my children. And as for who I think I am, I'm Alayne Baelish. Now, I don't owe you anything so get out before I have you thrown out. Understood?” 

Katrina opened her mouth to complain and yell but it seemed to click with her that pissing off Baelish's wife would have gotten more of a reaction out of him that pissing the man himself off would have. 

“Fine!” Was the last thing she said before she stormed out.

Sansa really hoped that people storming into shout at her was over and done with, her head dropped down against Petyr's desk, she desperately forced her fear down. The dark memories started to descend upon her but then, Tristan, bless his soul, called out to her and pulled her back to the real world. 

“Mommy?”

She looked over to her eldest child with a light smile. “Yeah... yes, baby boy? Don't worry, Mommy is fine. Come here.”

Sansa rose to her feet and went to pull him into her arms for a cuddle, as soon as she had him close Sansa sat down and pulled Poppy to her hip with Lady at her feet. 

“Love you, Mommy.”

That made Sansa smile and she gave him a little squeeze. 

“I love you to, Tris. Both of you, very much.”

“Want Daddy!” Poppy suddenly demanded as she did most days.

Sansa just chuckled, Poppy may have been the spitting image of her mother but she was all her father, a total Daddy's girl. The perfect melding of his brains and her beauty. 

“Later, Angel. Daddy is working on destroying someone for Mommy. How about I tell you a story?”

Both Tristan and Poppy perked up at that.

 

XXXX

 

It was very late when Jefferson went to Sebastian at his desk in the bullpen long after everyone had clocked off; including Heyerdahl. The place was dark save for Sebastian's desk lamp and Jefferson knew if he hadn't gone to get his boyfriend the man wouldn't have moved from that desk until morning.

“You ever coming home, baby?” The Medical Examiner asked with a smirk.

Sebastian sighed and raked a hand through his black hair before he reached for a bag of M&Ms sat beside his keyboard. 

“I'm sorry, Sweetheart.” He shovelled some of the sweet treats into his mouth, that man's sweet tooth would get him killed one day. “Heyerdahl is breathing down my neck with this Dwellers Hollow case.”

“I know the amount of bodies and the measures taken to prevent identification has to be professional-” 

DS Larroquette nodded. “And you know what that means.” 

“Uh-huh, our lives are about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.”

There was a pause and Jefferson pulled the bag of M&Ms safely away from the man he loved, Sebastian pouted but he'd never admit to it.

“Come on you, enough with the candy. You eat too much of that stuff.”

“Always have.” He chuckled as he adjusted his sibley gasses with a single finger. 

“I'm hiding your Twinkies and lollipops. It's for your own good.”

“Evil.” Grumbled Sebastian with mock annoyance then rose to his feet and pulled his leather jacket on.

Sebastian had dark bags under his eyes, always did he never slept properly, and Jefferson wondered about booking a trip away for them, something to force Sebastian to get some sleep.

“What do you say to Thai food for dinner?”

“Make it Chinese and you have yourself a deal.”

Jefferson smirked, if Sebastian got a chance at Chinese food he would take it. Sebastian leant down to his the shorter man. Jefferson nodded in agreement and took his lovers hand as they slowly made their way out of the office and towards the elevator.

“I need to be in early tomorrow for an autopsy. Some woman shoved off in the corner of the site. She was buried at the same depth and had all the same preventative measures taken to hide her identity but it's almost like she didn't deserved to be with all the other corpses.” Said Jefferson in a tone unbefitting to the subject of dead bodies. 

“Heyerdahl wont be happy until this professional is behind bars and he can take the credit.” Grumbled the waistcoat clad man.

“It's about bloody time they promote you to DI.”

The elevator doors rolled open then, they stepped out and headed towards the parking lot so they could finally go home. Sebastian just raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, until Heyerdahl is gone that's not going to happen. You know what he's like, I'm a faggot so I don't deserve to be anything more than a Detective Sergeant.” 

Jefferson sighed as they approached the car. “Enough about the homophobic monster, I'm hungry and horny.” 

Sebastian chuckled to himself. “Well we better get home then.”

The next morning Oren stormed down into the morgue with Sebastian not far behind him to see Jefferson, Heyerdahl burst into the white painted mortuary which caused all the assistants to jump, Jefferson though had grown used to the overly tall bully and his bull in a china shop routine.

“Doctor Von Voltaire, you'd better have some good news for me!”

Sebastian and Jefferson shared a look, the Medical Examiner really needed to speak with his lover but Oren had gotten there first.

“Em, yes. It's almost impossible to identify the bodies we've exhumed so far,” The Gothic man began as he continued on with the body before him “too much decay and whomever buried them didn't want us to know who they were. This one though,” he gestured to the naked corpse before him. “she's only been in the ground two to four years.” 

The body had discolored to a murky brown and had had stretched and torn in places where internal organs had bloated. Blonde hair seemed more like straw and the eyes were sunken. The skin around her nails and mouth and pulled back leaving an almost pained expression but the thing that drew everyone's attention initially was the bullet wound to the forehead. 

DI Heyerdahl glanced down to the body. “Is that Cersei fucking Lannister?” 

Sebastian took a breath. “Well, our problems just got bigger.”

“Voltaire,” Oren growled “I want to know everything! Cersei Lannister vanished from Dorne, how the fuck did she get here?

“Afraid I can't help you on her travel plans but I can tell you she was shot point blank in the left side of the head, which means two things. One, she saw it coming. Two, your killer is more than likely right handed since the wound is to the left part of her forehead.” 

“She knew who killed her?” DI Heyerdahl demanded and the two lovers shared a look once again.

“Not necessarily. Cersei Lannister was disliked by a lot of people, Sir, some she knew others she didn't. It's not my job to figure that out. Just because the killer got close doesn't mean they knew one another.” 

Oren pointed to Cersei's body. “I want this autopsy report on my desk within the hour. Larroquette, I think it's time you called Dorne and Jaime Lannister.” 

Without so much as a 'thank you, Voltaire', Oren was gone leaving Jefferson and Sebastian stood there.

“Good luck.” Doctor Von Voltaire smirked to his lover.

“Hmm,” grumbled the waistcoat clad man. “I think I need it. Lunch later?”

Jefferson nodded. “Sure.”

The Gothic Medical Examiner watched as the man he loved turned to leave and once again the mortuary found peace and quiet for which the assistants and forensic photographer were grateful. DI Oren Heyerdahl was going to become utterly unmanageable until this mass murdered was found... if he ever even was.


End file.
